


Bury thy Father, Bury thy Son

by taewho



Category: DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe- Modern Kingdom, Angst, Gotham is a kingdom, Implied Relationships, Multi, No One Is Okay, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, What Have I Done, first fic, the Joker leads an army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taewho/pseuds/taewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war's tides had not changed once since then, the war had no tides, it was a raging storm isolated at sea.</p><p>   And Bruce?</p><p>   Bruce planted his two sons right in the middle of it. Dick, Jason, Roy and Kori were pulled into a team. The best of the best, the King's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury thy Father, Bury thy Son

~~ _**I** _ ~~

 The limousine ascended the ramp onto the main streets of Gotham City and all Jason Todd could see at first was the sky. The sun was rising high, bouncing off of the clouds and shining directly into the limo's deeply-tinted windows. The swelled, gray masses of the clouds promised rain and Jason wished the sky would open up, unforgiving and unrelenting, and wash away all that he ached to leave behind.

   It was the one thing he couldn't have.

   "The masses ache to see the lot of you." The low, gruff voice came from the front of the limo and Jason was startled at the sudden motion to his right.

   It was Dick. Dick Grayson, Jason's higher-up. Everyone's higher-up. The only person above Dick in the screwed-up hierarchies of both Gotham's army and its politics was Bruce.

   Jason didn't want to think about Bruce. Didn't want to think about why he was there in the back of that limo and Bruce wasn't.

   On Jason's other side was Roy Harper, a sniper, _the_ sniper. There was nowhere his enemies could hide that Roy's scope couldn't find them. There was also nowhere Roy could go without mapping out all the exits three steps in. Beside Roy was Kori, previously Princess Koriand'r from a place she wouldn't talk about. She was the demolitionist of the group. She could level an entire apartment complex using simple household items. Also, she was orange.

   And then, Jason himself. More than a mere soldier. Lethal training, a knack for killing that nobody liked to talk about, Jason was little more than an instrument of death. Both Jason and Dick had gained their positions from birth, from social status, but Jason wanted to be there more than Dick did and he could see it every time he met Dick's eyes.

    Jason had been first. He joined Gotham's army to get away from prince-hood, from the flashing of cameras everywhere he went, from the expectation to, as the second son, either surpass the first or to fail entirely. He wouldn't be what Bruce wanted him to be and he wouldn't be what the media made him to be.

   So he joined up. And Bruce hated it. Bruce, who was Sergeant Major at the time and not his current position as General of the Army. Bruce, who wanted someone to follow in his footsteps, but not Jason, never Jason.

   Bruce always got what he wanted. Him being the King of Gotham ensured that.

   He sent Dick after Jason. Even made Dick a higher rank than Jason, even put Jason under Dick's control. When that didn't dissuade Jason, Bruce sent them both into war.

   Jason still to this day wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment he saw on Bruce's face the day he and Dick both returned.

   Two years later and that same war had only worsened.

   The opposing forces called themselves the Goons and they were deadly as all hell. They wore tactical clown masks into battle, every single one of them, always. And nobody knew who led them or where they came from . All Gotham's neighboring countries were allies, except for in the east, where there had been a full-out revolution until, finally, word had stopped coming. Whether the Goons stemmed from there or not, no one wanted to pin their origins on any one place until they were certain.

   Bruce had once stated that whoever the leader was saw the war as a joke the way they handled battles. He'd said that the Goons were holding back, that they were toying with Gotham's army. That they could crush Gotham like a bug if they wanted to.

   They'd first attacked Gotham's outer regions, far from the city. The farmlands. It had been a massacre. Nobody in the small town survived. Thousands were dead and all Gotham had to go on was a grinning face drawn in blood on one of the town's last remaining buildings.

   That was in the beginning. The war's tides had not changed once since then, the war had no tides, it was a raging storm isolated at sea.

   And Bruce?

   Bruce planted his two sons right in the middle of it. Dick, Jason, Roy and Kori were pulled into a team. The best of the best, the King's own. They were an experiment, a project titled Lazarus.

   Biblical in all the ways Bruce, and Gotham, were not.

   And now the squadron had been pulled home. Ripped from the battlegrounds, forced to abandon many troops in hopes of saving thousands of others.

   They weren't heroes. Not here in Gotham. Here they were celebrities to be dissected until nothing was left, here they were surrounded by people who either acted oblivious to the war or actually were.

   They were on their way into the city for the first time since they'd been deployed and none of them wanted to be there. Trigger fingers itched and eyes continuously scanned surrounding areas, every loud noise caused muscles to stiffen and heads to lift. They were battle ready, but this kind of battle wasn't one they knew how to fight.

   They'd all been so still the entire ride and the tension and anxiety filled the air in the back of the limo like gas, but now everyone, Jason included, was preparing themselves for what lay ahead.

   Gotham wanted celebrities? They could play at that.

   They could play at that, _would_ play at that because they had no choice.

   Jason took in the way Roy restlessly bounced his knee, his hands clasped and his eyes meeting Jason's as if he knew Jason would look at him just then. Roy's bright hair was pulled into a neat bun at the top of his head and it contrasted greatly with his tuxedo. He offered Jason a smile, and Jason returned it.

   Roy's hands didn't shake anymore, none of their hands did when the cameras were rolling and the sun still had a place in the sky.

  When night fell, so did they.

   When night fell the war seized them by the hearts, constricting, suffocating, When night fell the damage was done and they were just a bunch of young adults too hurt to realize that they even were.

   Jason shifted his eyes to Kori, who sat with her smooth, long legs crossed and her head high. In her sleek, sophisticated dark dress she looked prepared for anything, but Jason knew that she was more human than she liked to admit and she, too, could fall apart.

   And Dick, Dick smoothed back his raven-black hair and fixed his tie, carried himself with the air of importance only a prince could. He winked at Jason and even that small action was different somehow- he wasn't the Dick Jason knew, not anymore, not since they had crossed into the city.

   All that was missing from Dick's head now was a crown.

   Jason was reminded that Dick would be king, and the way Dick's bright blue eyes didn't quite shine anymore when he glanced out the window to see the crowds of people surrounding the limousine, trying to get a view of the faces of Project Lazarus, told Jason that Dick was also thinking of it.Thinking of kingship.

   Thinking of it and condemning it, as if he had a choice.

   Jason himself was a bundle of nerves but he, too, could don a mask. He adjusted his suit jacket, turned to the window again. The skyscrapers blocked out the sun and the roar of the crowd was audible through the windows.

   "Home sweet home." Roy muttered, as the limo pulled up to the grand plaza that had been built in memorial to the lives lost in the Goons' first raid. Jason leaned across the limo and fixed Roy's tie, aware of Dick's eyes following his hands to Roy's neck.

   "Smile pretty." Jason said, and the limo door was wrenched open and the four of them were thrown into commotion.

   It was loud.

   Too loud, and Jason wasn't supposed to break, wasn't _allowed_ to but he suddenly found it hard to breathe with so much going on around him. Surrounding them were numerous police officers pushing the civillian lines back, trying to give them some room as they attempted to make it to the steps of the plaza. Jason glanced behind him. Even Roy was handling this better than he was.

   Everyone screamed, cameras flashed one after the other, never-ending lights in Jason's face.

   His hands shook.

   His hands shook and he couldn't see himself making it to the steps but then Dick was right behind him with a hand on his shoulder, pushing him forward.

   The four of them made it to the steps. Kori stood on Dick's left and Roy stood on Jason's right, the four of them in a line facing the man at the top of the stairs.

   Bruce.

   Dick mumbled, but the whole team heard him when he said it,

  "When Gotham is mine, all of this changes. All of it."

    Jason didn't think that Dick believed his own words.

~~_**II** _ ~~

  Jason found Roy in the bathroom three times that night. The first time, he was with a guy. The second time, he was with a girl. The third, he was hammered beyond belief and Jason had to physically pry the wine glass from his hands. He'd just helped his friend over to the toilet when he began vomiting.

     The smell of vomit didn't mix well with the lavender-scented air freshener in the Wayne Manor bathroom.

    "M'sorry," Roy slurred as Jason helped him back to his feet, an arm secured around his waist. "Wanted to...Wanted--"

    Jason shushed him, shaking his head.

    Roy wanted to forget.

    "I know," Jason told him, sitting down on the floor near the sink and pulling Roy down with him. He forced Roy to lie down, his head resting on Jason's lap, and began to take out Roy's hair, letting the scrunchie slide around his own wrist. "It's okay. I know."

    As much as Jason knew about Roy's past, there were still gaps, wide gaps in his knowledge that Jason would just have to become comfortable with. He used to ask. He would ask and Roy would begin talking and he'd be fine, he'd be willing to answer. And then he would blank out, his bright green eyes looking somewhere just past Jason's head, his mind trapped in memories and Jason would call his name.

    Jason would call him until he came back from wherever he'd went and he wouldn't let him go back.

    What he did know about Roy took the anger and disappointment Jason would've felt had it been anyone else laying drunk on his lap and instead molded it into concern. The two of them--in fact, all four of them, the entire team, were a family. They were as close as it got and so when one of them shattered, when one of them gave in the rest would always be close behind, ready to pick up whatever pieces of were left. They'd be there to tell each other that it was okay to leave some pieces behind.

    Jason ran his fingers through Roy's hair, leaning back against the bathroom wall. The wallpaper was a hideous floral arrangement and the colors popped at Jason--reds, greens, yellows, winding stems and never-ending petals. The floor was tiled, tan in color and the floor-ends were of polished wood. The stalls were green and the ceiling a bright, headache-inducing yellow.

    It was an astonishingly calming environment, but that could've been attributed to the fact that Jason had come to the bathroom to hide.

    Somehow Jason, Roy, Dick, and Kori had ended up agreeing to a banquet celebrated in their name (which was highly ironic; the only thing they'd ever expected to have given in their names were funerals). Wayne Manor luckily wasn't a place of screaming civilians, but it was a place of tight security and full bank accounts, of well-fitting suits and fake smiles. Jason was just glad it was quieter than it had been at the memorial plaza.

    He'd lost all three of his friends within a few minutes in. Honestly, Jason was surprised Roy hadn't gone straight to the bar in the first place, but the redhead had busied himself in other ways. Kori had gone to the food and had easily attracted a crowd. Dick was the most tolerant of the four of people constantly surrounding him but Kori was a close second and she entertained with great ease.

    Dick was whisked away immediately. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the leader of the war heroes, the would-be king, and Gotham was a place where anyone could get what they wanted, if they could afford it.

    They couldn't afford Dick.

     He was too good for them, Jason thought. They didn't even know him; they knew a pretty boy with a smile and all the right words to say on the tip of his tongue. They didn't know  _anything_. Didn't know how much of his own blood he'd spilled, and for what? To come home and be asked what designer had made his suit. To be asked if he had a woman waiting for him.

    To be asked about one day ruling Gotham.

    Sometimes, when they were under a lot of fire on the fronts, Jason wished death upon Dick, if it would prevent him from having to be king. Jason wanted kingship less than Dick did but he'd shoulder that burden, for Dick he'd shoulder that burden. Also, being in a war zone didn't allow for shame and so Jason's thoughts were raw and honest. He'd adopted the open-mindedness of a person who could die at any moment.

    Roy was asleep, his head heavy on Jason's thigh. Jason disentangled his fingers from Roy's hair just as the bathroom door was wrenched open.

    Jason didn't have to look up to know it was Dick.

    Neither of them said anything at first and Dick stood expressionless, watching Roy's head on Jason's lap. Then he said, very quietly, "Bruce wants to see you."

    Jason smirked. "Fuck what he wants. Tell him I'm busy."

    Dick stood silently, hands at his sides, looking away. Jason watched as the other man thought, watched the bathroom light chase shadows along his jaw-line and his neck, watched the way his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He looked down. This wasn't war, and his shame was two steps behind him.

    "Come on, Jay," Dick said finally, and Jason flinched. Flinched at the old nickname how easily it had rolled off Dick's tongue. His tone wasn't one Jason couldn't name. "Let's get this over with."

    Jason narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and remained seated. "Nah, I think I should take Roy up to his room." he stood without meeting Dick's gaze, momentarily leaving Roy on the floor. He crossed the distance to Dick, looking him over. "You gonna help me? Or do you hear daddy dearest calling for his little bird?"

    Dick was quick, always had been, and he grabbed Jason harshly by the jaw in response. His fingers met bone and Jason only grinned.

    "Roy's on the floor." Jason reminded politely, hostility poisoning his voice.

    "Jason." Dick was cautious, but weariness frayed his words and he broke off into a sigh. He stared at Jason for a long moment before releasing him. Together they eased Roy off the floor, one of them on either of his sides, Roy's arms slung across their shoulders.

    They took Roy from the bathroom directly down a back hallway and began to climb the stairs. When they arrived at the right floor, Jason hauled Roy over his back while Dick struggled to find the right room. When he eventually found it Jason walked in, immediately setting Roy down on the bed and turning back to the door.

    Dick looked disheveled, his tie askance and his hair sticking up slightly and Jason grinned sharply, humorlessly. The Dick he knew was showing through the cracks and it was only a matter of time before he burst free. Dick could play the royalty game for a lot longer than Jason could, but even he had limits.

   Tomorrow the cycle would begin anew; tomorrow the camera would roll and the media would analyze and the people would rejoice. Tomorrow Jason would pretend like he wasn't simply waiting to be sent to his death again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was actually supposed to be multiple chapters (which is why it ended so abruptly) but I kind of lost motivation. Either way, thanks to everyone who read this, it's greatly appreciated and I hope you liked it.


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